


Your Word

by IantoPace



Series: Remain [1]
Category: The Hobbit, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bilbo caring for Thorin, Elf-hating Thorin, Loving Thranduil, M/M, Past Life Mentioning, Protective Thranduil, Reincarnation, Soul Bond, Soul mate, Spoilers, The One - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantoPace/pseuds/IantoPace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tags, relationships, and rating will stay updated as the story progresses.<br/>Thranduil discovers his bond mate has been reborn, the same body, name, and personality. He is grateful, and will do all he can to keep him by his side this time; No exceptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Notified

**Author's Note:**

> All italic speech is in Elfish  
> All bold speech is in Khuzdul

_Foolish Man_

  
  
  
  


The smell of Orc blood offended Legolas as an arrow struck the back of it’s head. At least that’s what it sounded like from where he was being kept in a headlock by it. He only made the clarification when it went limp and even then he only barely noticed it under the alarm sight of his father.

 

 _“Do you require a repeat of your lessons?”_ His father asked.

 

 _“Do you require a mirror?”_ Legolas joked in return, realizing he had never seen the king in such clothing; The tunic and leggings(which were the common apparel) only meant for ease of movement instead of also in use for appearance. The only part of his attire left for presentation remained in his hair, which was partially braided in a way similarly to his own.

 

Thranduil gave only a quirk of his lips to show his acceptance of his son’s thought. He rarely clothed himself in such, preferring the lengthy robes that announced his status and made it unmistakable.

 

_ “My apologies for not returning Tauriel to the kingdom.” _

 

_“Pay it no mind, I have declared her banishment before I left. Now I have o-”_

 

“No!” Legolas shouted before he could restrain himself of the outburst in common tongue. He found he did not care to, anyway. _“Please don’t do this, I will make her return, give up this quest.”_

 

Thranduil raised his chin, staring at his son with no less than disappointment. _“Do you truly wish to risk yourself for her. She runs to the aid of Dwarves and defied my orders. She is foolish, and you act as though you wish to be if your believe you could truly love an inferior Silvan-”_ He is cut off by the sudden dagger at his throat.

 

The deep breath his son takes is hardly noticeable… to a Human.

 

 _“Do not speak of her that way.”_ This was childish, Legolas knew, and an embarrassment to himself and the Silvan, but he hardly feared for his own place in the Woodland Realm; He was the single prince, and his father would not waste years simply to prove a point, not if risking him.

 

After a long silence, Legolas retracted the dagger, and Thranduil spoke again. _“Very well, I will… consider an exception.”_ His son nodded and bowed his head in thanks. _“But if I so choose you are not to speak to her without clear intention until she proves herself regretful.”_ Legolas stills at the words, yet understands that his father has done much worse and had little to no reason for this sudden lack in obstinacy.

 

 _“Of course,”_ He agreed. _“What has summoned you here, if not our leave?”_

 

If he was not mistaken his father appeared reluctant to answer. Yet he replied, _“Word was sent of the man who escorted the Dwarves to this town. They claim to have him in their prisons.”_ Of course he leaves out his name, knowing Legolas would recognize it along with the revelation that he would travel all this way on his own for the certain human. It also might not be true: that this was the same man- well, the same man incarnate.

 

 _“Perhaps you should return. There are many problems arising that will need your attending to. Waste no more time here, I will bring back this man.”_ Although Legolas had little intention of making this a priority. The war with the Dwarves was unnecessary and they were of few where the Silvan had thousands.

 

Thranduil might have perceived this, as he looked his son over with suspicion. That also could be caused by the value this man had to the king, but the other did not know of this.

 

Yet if the man was in a prison, there was not a pressing issue of contracting him, and Thranduil was in possession of many resources; He could find this man if he were to be lost from this Human town. _“This is a large promise. If you return without him I will not hesitate to withdraw my offer concerning Tauriel.”_

  
Legolas nodded, and his father left, turning through the receding Orcs.


	2. Preceding the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf intrudes.

Find him he did. With all his resources he needed one, the Elf who went to warn Legolas to fulfill his promise. The Elf returned much later the same day with verification about the fate of Laketown. Thranduil’s flash of worry for the Human he recently returned from efforts to find was quelled when the unit then told him that the people were looking towards a man -with the same name as the one said to be in their prison- who slayed the dragon with a black arrow, and who was bringing them to Erebor.

 

Thranduil collected his ranks and had carts of sustenance put together. If any of them noticed how quick he was to said them, they gave it no indication, although he had the guise to also seek his people’s heirlooms, which was not entirely untrue.

 

The disguise is nearly swept clear from his mind when he rode into the town after his army has become still. A brief flash of wonder showed in his eyes when the Human king spoke; That voice had left him awake at night, had left him restless and had broken his heart at it’s withdrawal.

 

“You have saved us,” The man said. _Oh, how I wish that could have been so for you,_ Thranduil thought with sorrow. “I do not know how to thank you.”

 

 _The sight of you will suffice._ These thoughts were not seen as foolish in the Elvenking’s mind. Even so, this situation would possibly rule as a satisfactory excuse. “You need not worry of repayment. Man has no lasting quarrel with Elves, and we seek the same; What we are owed of Erebor’s riches.”

 

Bard nodded and turned to look over his blessed people. He did wish to help the Elf in turn, however the other seemed to truly not desire it.

  
  


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Thranduil risked offering Bard a tent of his own, or a bed in his. Of course he had declined, causing the Elvenking to smile; His Human was as humble and loyal to his charge as he remembered him.

 

Not long after they began speaking of intentions in Thranduil’s tent, a complaining peasant of Bard’s men began shouting at a beggar, which lured Bard to investigate. A booming voice then alerted him to the identity of their company, and he was stilled at the thought of Gandalf’s take on the man who would be greeting him.

 

Gandalf had been one of the few to know of Bard. The wizard might be helpful in the current circumstances, though, and shed light on Bard’s… reappearance, which he had already done, Thranduil realized; After Bard’s death the wizard had told him of reincarnation and it’s abilities, yet he accepted it as mere comfort from the wizard.

 

He remained boring as ever, set in his ways of discouraging battle. Thranduil, though, had a more than sufficient distraction: His lovely bowman.

 

The Elvenking had once braided that rich hair, and he appreciated that the man had kept it clean despite the many factors that would make it coarse and unruly. In turn that man had braided his hair. His calloused fingers seemed incapable of the delicacy they had used when intertwining long strands of Elf hair. He wished to perform the reciprocated acts again.

 

So of course he desired to harm the old wizard when his chastising interrupted his musings. He began paying attention again anyway.

 

After their meeting Gandalf asked Bard for privacy within Thranduil’s tent, which he freely granted.

 

“I hope I do not need to tell you the dangers in what you are doing,” Gandalf started.

 

Thranduil sighed away his annoyance. “I believe you have incorrectly interpreted my intentions with the ruler of Laketown.” If the people would still be known that way with their home demolished. “I do request your audience after the battle; I intend to reveal all necessary information to him then. You are able to provide more information than I am. Also I worry for his trust in my own words.”

 

The wizard stood firmly in a long silence before finally replying with reluctance. “If you are so set in your choice, fine. You have my help. But promise to keep him safe. You do not plan to revive his past life’s memories, do you?”

 

“If he allows it, I wish for him to not have any doubts concerning his past life, nor that I take his lack of knowledge for granted.”

 

“You know very well what might become of him.”

 

Thranduil picked up his cup of wine as he replied, pouring what Bard left of his into his his own. “And I will be at his side, the bonds of a mate are a powerful and restorative power.”

 

“He’s no mate of yours,” Gandalf argued.

 

“Perhaps a physical union was not performed, but the bond remains.” Thranduil’s voice became louder as he attempted to state is as if perched on his throne, when the power in his voice was undeniable. “A bond is indelible, as you know well. It lasts beyond a lifetime.”

 

Gandalf looked as though he wanted to argue more, but the man has experience with the Elvenking and had seen him in his time with the first-born Bard; He will not be swayed, especially if he would regain his soul-mate.

  
  
``~``````~`~`~~`~~~`~~`~~~````~~~``~````~~~


	3. Let Me Tell You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is informed, Thranduil leaves with only his warriors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta has been unavailable.

Thranduil fortunately found many things to distract himself during the battle, otherwise he would have worried over Bard and possibly been overpowered like a fool.

He hurried among the bodies of his soldiers, searching determinedly through the fallen, meanwhile partially denying the possibility that Legolas might be found with them. He hardly registered the bother of having to turn his head further and more often after so many years. The choking pressure around his heart lifted away when he heard approaching footsteps and lifted his gaze to see his son.

 

``~``````~`~`~~`~~~`~~`~~~````~~~``~````~~~

 

After he bid his son farewell Thranduil sent a soldier to find Gandalf, then ventured into the village to find Bard. The man was looking over his people, seemingly glad that not very many had perished. A girl refused to move from his side nor release his hand. The Elvenking felt a sting of sorrow both that Bard had had children with another and that the man must have had a wife in his second life, but he still understood; He had married and had Legolas before meeting Bard as he was in his first life. Additionally, Bard was part of of any children he had, therefore Thranduil would love them as he loves his own son.

“Lord Thranduil,” The ruler of Laketown greeted with a smile, which is how he surprised himself: The quirk of his lips and the calm that temporarily rose in him at the Elf’s arrival must have been purely instinctual due to his somewhat trust of the other. Although he had no valid reasons to support this claim.

“King Bard-” Thranduil began.

“There is no need to call me a king, please call me Bard,” The other corrected, which gave a small lift to the Elf’s lips.

“Then you may use my given name, as well,” He replied. “May I speak with you in private?”

Bard hesitated, knowing he should be making sure the people were okay, but he had questions for the king as well. So he called to his son, who had been helping others not far away, and asked, “Bain, would you take over for a while?”

Bain looked over for a moment, responding quickly with, “Of course, Da!” Thranduil looked over the boy approvingly; He would make a formidable warrior, and likely the next ruler of this band of Humans.

Bard then turned to the young girl at his hip and said a few words to console her. Through her mumbles the white-haired king was able to discern that she was, in fact, his daughter, and the way his… former-ish lover spoke to the child spread warmth around his heart. He absently desired to do the same with the young girl, yet he had trouble remembering exact details of Legolas’ youth.

After Bard was able to guide his daughter to her brother, he walked at Thranduil’s left until they reached the latter’s temporary quarters, where the wizard had already arrived. The king was not alarmed to remember that he had already been keeping the man on his left, it had become a habit over the course of their first period of time together. The three walked inside, all standing, with Gandalf much farther from the other two.

Bard started: “How might I be of service?”

And Thranduil replied: “How aware are you of the possibility of reincarnation?”

“I never think of it further than a child’s bedtime story,” The Human responded.

“Then allow me to explain. There is valid potential of both mind and body to be remade in nearly exact fashion. Even a name may be passed on. This likelihood can be heightened by a bond between two being…” The king found he had to pause as the memories of their ending struck through the forefront of his thoughts. He took an unnoticeable, deep breath. “Obstructed,” He continued, “by one’s death, while the other is expected to live far longer. The loss of this bond is harrowing until the maturity of the reincarnated.” He chose to stop there, assuming the information would produce questions.

Bard had many question, but not as much about the details as the motive. “Why do I need to know this?” It made the oh-so-collected Elf hesitate to answer. There were many possible ways to ruin the potential reconciliation, and he was determined to not choose one.

“...I believe it will ease what I am about to tell you.”

“And what might that be?”

A bit ahead of plans, but Thranduil allowed his eagerness to overpass the anxiety. “You yourself are a reincarnation.” He kept his gaze determinedly away from Gandalf while saying the next sentence. “We are each other’s bondmate.” The king unconsciously swallowed down his nerves, though the effort was futile.

Bard immediately stepped forward, and Thranduil instinctively stepped back as if expecting harm. It had been many years since he had adjusted to welcoming Bard’s movements in his precision; In that time his reflexes grown back into subtle skittishness. The Human stopped once he registered the other’s reaction, moving back to his original place and turning to the wizard.

“Is this true?”

“The truth, however vague he has chosen to show it,” Gandalf answered. Thranduil rolled his eyes at the criticism.

“Is it often that a bond forms between two of the same sex?” This was not urgent or important knowledge, but he was wary of accepting his -or his previous being’s- relations with this stoic, stubborn, hostile Elf.

“The world and magic are aware of themselves and each other,” The wizard stated. “If so wished, magic could grant the ability to carry or create a child despite their physical form, although it would come with many dangers. However, bonds are not formed for the birth of new life; They are created to unite two lives who would give everything for each other and their safety.”

As Bard turned back to the white-haired male, now less skeptic, all of his initial questions for the Elvenking were forgotten in place of new queries. “Would you be willing to tell me our story?”

Thranduil nearly laughed at that; The man had every right to know his own story and it would be a fool’s attempt to convince Bard without sharing it. “A past life is able to be conjured directly into the reincarnated mind, if you would prefer,” He said instead.

Gandalf interjected quickly, “Do not make the decision lightly. As I have told King Thranduil, this comes with many risks and possibility of defects mentally or otherwise.”

Bard nodded, though he had already chosen. “I’d prefer to know you in this life and grow feelings without the influence of a past life’s memories.” Telling him of his other life might defeat the purpose of not bringing them directly from his past, but that did have many negative possibilities, as the wizard had said. Plus, his other life can always be revived at another time (he thinks).

The smile that rose on Thranduil’s lips in turn caused him to smile. His earlier reaction to seeing the king now explained, he allowed it to remain there.

Neither cared that Gandalf then took his leave.

“Then return with me to Mirkwood, I will tell you anything you ask.”

Bard, knowing his priorities as well as anticipating this offer, took no time to respond. “I have people to attend to. Much of what you have supplied was not damaged in the battle, but I want to be sure that we are stable before leaving.”

“Of course,” Thranduil slowly nodded, no longer smiling. He understood the duties of a king. Even if Bard would prefer to not be called such, the dedication was unmistakable when compared to that of a proper ruler. “Take what time you require, I will assure you are permanently welcomed upon your arrival in Mirkwood.”

“Thank you.” Bard nodded in return, then stepped forward again - slower than before. Thranduil did not flinch away this time. This encouraged the Human to raise a hand to the other’s chest, staying just below his shoulder. “You are telling the truth?” But he didn’t wait for an answer, knowing already that the powerful king had no good reason for lying if only to gain his trust and favor. “Nevermind, you do not need to answer. But, truly, we are all grateful for your help, and I will do my best to visit the Woodland Realms soon.”

With that, he ventured back to his people, Thranduil watching him leave -definitely not admiring the man’s physique- with the confidence returned to his eye, and he began to collect his soldiers to proceed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So imagine Thranduil riding his Elk, leading his warriors home, but there is no one at his side. Legolas has gone off with harmed Tauriel, and Bard has stayed with his people. He will be a lone king until the time that Bard is able to know his people will be alright. Unless his people won't be alright, so Bard must leave to ask Thranduil for help...


	4. Asking the Tall Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarves seek to save their king and princes, which has become dangerous and unlikely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate any offers to be a beta, as my initial beta is currently indisposed as far as I know.

Bilbo sat at Thorin’s bedside, redressing his wounds at the break of dawn. The previous two mornings and three nights he’d been doing this, tears had wetted his cheeks. By now, he felt too numb and disconnected from his body to cry. Although, the bags under his eyes and their bloodshot look took place to show his aloof towards his own needs.

 

Another groan released from the king’s chapped lips, and Bilbo’s stomach churned again. He thought he could start crying again when a knock interrupted his distressed thoughts.

 

“Yes?” He called in answer, followed by the whoosh of cold air through the opening door.

 

“Have ye’ eaten somethin’ yet?” Balin asked, staying by the door with his head turned away. Watching the king being cared for had already been considered intrusive, this was only heightened by the way the young Hobbit had been caring for him. He barely left his bedside. Being in a room with the two has begun to give the feeling that ye’ were intruding on something private.

 

Bilbo, reluctant to answer, continued carefully cleaning and dressing Thorin’s wounds. Finally, he shook his head, adding, “No,” in a quiet tone.

 

“...You’re not alright, lad. I’ve brought ye’ breakfast.” Balin now walked forward and set down a tray next to the Hobbit. Bilbo looked to his side, seeing soup and meat on the plate. He raised a smile towards Balin at the inclusion of utensils. Unfortunately, this allowed the Dwarf to see his haggard appearance. He quickly covered his despondent expression by returning the smile, but Bilbo had already seen it and turned his head back towards Thorin. Even in sleep the king looked stressed and restless.

 

“Go on and get some sleep,” Balin urged. “Let me watch him for a bit.”

 

“No, no. I… I have to be here if he wakes up. He’ll want to know that everyone’s alright, that his nephews- Are they alright?” The Hobbit sat up in alarm; he had only been to their rooms once two weeks ago. It was also the only time he had left in the past.

 

“The lads are… Don’t be worried, young Hobbit, but the lads ain’t doin’ better.” Balin wished he could lie to him; going through all he is, but he deserved the truth. “We’ve been considering… dangerous methods.”

 

Bilbo looked more stressed and worried at the news. “What’s that, then?”

 

“Askin’ the elves.” The two marveled at the fact that Thoring didn’t wake at that statement.

 

“What?” Bilbo would have stood had he thought he had the strength to. “Thorin would flay you alive if he found out the Elves had been in Erebor.”

 

“Maybe not if they save his sister’s sons’ lives,” Balin replied, his voice barely doubtful. “And his.”

 

Bilbo sighed and considered the truth in that. Thorin would definitely find fault in the plan where there was little. The Elvenking is reserved and surely still hateful towards Dwarves, but they were likely the only species with the healing abilities to save the three.

 

“The others agree, we’re sending a request today,” Balin continued. “Thought you had a right to know since you’ve been caring for him all this time.”

 

Bilbo nodded and looked at the Dwarf to give him a short smile. “Thank you, Balin. I promise to mind my health.”

  
“Good. Thank you for caring for Thorin.“ Balin then left, off to silently worry over their Hobbit.


	5. Argument(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard finally arrives in Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poorly written, I think; I still need a beta.

A month passed since the Elves’ leave from Erebor, and no one dared to give audible attention to the increasingly sullen way their king behaved: He would be slightly late to wake up, his eyes usually on the ground when he walked, he ate less than he required, and he spent more time simply sitting within his quarters.

 

It wasn’t until the morning a guard rushed into his bedchambers unannounced that he showed strong emotions. The shout he barked out at the intrusion could be heard all the way to the dining halls.

 

He was doing nothing that needed to be concealed, including sexual acts which would be unnecessary… or they used to be unnecessary. When he was courting Bard and being courted in return, he had indulged in the pleasure once, late into the night with a bearded jaw and calloused hands filling his fantasies.

 

The fact remained that the guard had walked in on nothing of this nature, but everyone was aware that the king favored his privacy.

 

The guard, after flinching from the rebuke, explained himself quickly. There was a bet on this news; Whether their king was truly distraught over the king of what used to be Laketown. “News was sent from the Human town that aided us in the battle. King Bard sent word over the night that he will be departing for Mirkwood today.”

 

The intrusive guard had won the bet; Their king showed full attention after the first mention of Humans, a barely noticeable smile gradually rising as the guard continued.

 

“Remove yourself,” Thranduil ordered, moving out of his bed. “Thank you for this news. If you intrude past my doors again you will not even provide music at meals.” The guard nodded and hurried out of the room. With a smile, the king began to dress, deciding to attempt to impress the man, as certain clothes had allegedly caused different reactions in his former bowman.

  
  
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Thranduil sat on his throne, masking his glee while he watched Bard approaching over the long path. He caught the man’s eye, flashed a smile, and was glad to get one in return, although not as eagerly. This would irk him if he did not keep it in immediate memory that this man still did not know all of their time together. That was why he was here -partially- and that was enough reason for the Elf if it meant Bard would be visiting often. He would woo the Human again, and this time he would savor every moment and cherish the man with everything he had.

 

“How have you fairing, a new king in a new land?” Thranduil asked, rising from his chair once Bard stood on the same platform his throne rested on.

 

“Well. We have chosen to stay in Dale, but have much work ahead of us before we will even be able to rebuild the houses. And we-” Bard stopped himself, worrying about how the other would respond. “But we are fine. The Elves suffered as well, how have your people been recovering?”

 

Thranduil ignored this, stepping less than three feet from the other. “What else hinders the people of Dale?”

 

Bard, knowing the other king’s stubbornness, blurted out, “Though women and children are well cared for, the marketplace was rampaged by the Orcs, and our supplies have dwindled.”

 

The response was immediate; “We will not fail to help you. The Elves have suffered a loss, but we can accommodate well. I will send provisions with you upon your leave.” Even though Thranduil hoped to not encourage the man’s lack of presence in his halls, this seemed to be satisfactory.

 

“Thank you, Ki- Thranduil,” Bard said with a bit of hesitation.

 

There was shuffling behind him, and Bard turned to find an Elf guard standing just past the end of the narrow bridge.

 

Thranduil successfully kept his annoyance from showing in his eyes as they lifted to look expectantly at the guard.

 

“The Dwarves have sent a plea.” Even Legolas would have missed the passing surprise in the Elvenking’s gaze. “Three of the group in the kingdom of Erebor have fallen ill, most pertaining to the battle. They have asked for Elven healing and believe it is the only known possible cure.”

 

Thranduil looked pensively at his lap for a moment. Then replied, “If that is all, you may leave.” The guard turned without delay and departed, somehow able to quickly move out of sight.

 

Bard, turning back to Thranduil, asked, “Do you plan to help them?”

 

Thranduil did not miss the potential in this. Yes, how fortunate (sort of) he had become. “What reason would I have for such mercy. If _King_ Thorin calls himself a king he must be capable of aiding his own people.”

 

“Yet he might be one of those harmed in the battle, surely you have heard of Dragon sickne-”

 

“We would still have no liability toward them.” Thranduil moved a half-conscious step closer, his attention solely on the man before him.

 

“Do you forget fighting as a united army. The Dwarves-”

 

 _Our first fight -at least his first… technically- is to be wasted on this. Yet my cursed self loves the passion rallied within you. I let my mouth betray me if only to invoke your magnificent ferocity._ “The Elves and the Dwarves fought together once over hundreds of years to defeat the vile Orcs. I lived over those hundred years; I witnessed the cruelties of Thrain, who denied the Elves their due. I owe them _nothing_ and-”

 

Bard found that the Elvenking’s skin felt more silky than it appeared. The sound elicited by the slap was satisfying, as it always was. Although as Bard felt the Elf’s left cheekbone for a short second there felt to be something… missing. He felt the absence of impact on his ring and end finger even as he saw them make contact with flesh.

 

The also elicited shout from the blonde king was unexpected. Thranduil quickly turned his face the other way, hiding the harmed side of his face. But Bard had caught the third alarming factor; His skin looked unaffected. His anger was forgotten, at least temporarily.

 

The bowman stepped forward, both of them in complete silence and Thranduil refusing to look at the other, yet he still didn’t flinch away from his approach. Bard raised a hand towards his chin, he still forced himself to hold his ground. He promised Bard -even if not in detail- if he wanted to know something, Thranduil will do anything to please his curiosity. If this involved this particular… horror, then he would gladly suffer through it. Plus, he realized he thoroughly angered Bard, so he now must hope he can gain forgiveness; Their relationship is still quite new to Bard, after all.

 

The calloused fingers gently touched his jaw and guided his head to turn. The slight pressure was not forceful. Perhaps the Human suspected that he was hesitant to reveal whatever he might be hiding. Granted, the hurried protection of his left side was a blatant hint. Thranduil turned his head with the suggestful guidance. He watched his love’s suspicions be confirmed; The skin was still pale, as Thranduil was unable to perfect that particular conditioning.

 

The Elf easily read the question in the other’s eyes. Bard was knowledged enough to know that even Elf skin would show impact of such harm.

 

“I’m… I am deeply sorry, Lord Thranduil.” Bard licked his lips nervously and was about to step back. He realized he had stepped far too close considering their current situation.

 

Before he could Thranduil put his hand around the one still loosely holding his perfect jawline. “Please accept my apology; You retain your gallant heart and I abused the chance to see more of it. I will send help to Erebor. I can send them by dawn, and further supplies for Dale along with them.” Since the kingdom and town were very close it will be easy to pass through one to reach the other.

 

Bard shook his head in protest. “I was wrong to strike you regardless of your intentions. As king of Mirkwood you have control of your people. My argument was contradictory of your power.”

 

Thranduil suddenly smiled, a memory sparked in company of his response. “I ruled with your past self.” That was fairly vague, as the king commonly preferred, but Bard deserved better than his stringent, resentful self. He wanted Bard to be proud of his actions and possibly see his progress in the Human’s company. “Not publicly, but your opinion was often a priority in my decisions. You were as much a ruler as I.”

 

Bard gave a small smile. “I would gladly share news of our kingdoms.” The mentioning of his old self brought his attention to his original reason of visiting. “You’ve promised me stories. Tell me something you- **we** did in my past life.” He planned to speak of his revelation eventually, but now was clearly not ideal. It would wait.

  
Thranduil, nervous as the thought was, intended to reveal his truth as well. Tentatively ignoring it was acceptable, though.


	6. First Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small drinking, a story, the urge to kiss someone.

Thranduil gave the man a smile instead of an audible answer. He gestured for him to follow as he turned and walked to the steps descending from the platform. Bard followed, giving the Elf an amused expression as they walked down to another room.

 

Bard wasn’t surprised that they entered wine cellar; He **was** surprised at the amount of wine Thranduil kept there. Said king was already pouring the liquid into two cups from a holding jug.

 

“The Dwarves made their escape in barrels, from the door there.” Thranduil gestured to the plank of wood in the floor, large and clearly separate from the rest.

 

Bard chuckled, remembering their shouts in the river. “You claimed that the Hobbit let them out of the dungeon.” It was half questioning, wondering if he remembered correctly.

 

“And he admitted his doings,” Thranduil added, walking up to Bard and offering a cup to him. “As well as to stealing the Arkenstone. He appeared shameless in the face of his crimes.”

 

Bard accepted the wine, finding that Thranduil had not hesitated to enter his personal space and was nearly pressing their chests together. The wine was in the way, however, but the Human briefly concluded that the king might be attempting to seduce him

 

“Perhaps he knew his actions were justified, as we all do.”

 

“Stealing from a king is rarely justifiable.”

 

“Do you believe it is justifiable when it leads to the survival of a race that deserves to be preserved?” This sounded like another fight, and the Elf did not want to patronize his love any further, so he attempted to evade further discussion of it.

 

“...Yes.” He looked at Bard with a slight incline of his neck, allowing himself to reminisce in the memory of first standing so close to him, unexpectedly finding that he was merely inches shorter than himself. “It is partial reasoning for delivering supplies to Dale.”

 

Bard stayed silent for a long moment. He wondered if he should thank Thranduil again, but he wanted to know the other partial reasons, even though he was sure he knew what they were. “Am I the other reason.”

 

“Yes,” Without hesitation. The Human licked his lips, now wondering if that should be bad or flattering. He decided to take it both ways, and moved on to discuss their previous conversation.

 

“Was my past self Human?”

 

The question made the blonde king smile. He would enjoy the inquiries, able to speak about his lost love freely and help them in the process. “Yes, however your height was fortunate; You seemed at ease among Elves and I believe that includes being of average height by Elf standards.”

 

“I was among Elves?”

 

“Yes. When Oropher ceased rule I assured that Humans were welcomed. I led the combined species past decimated territory to Mirkwood. The Humans nearly settled with the Elves, but soon after the arrival a tyrant was born among them and believed Elves had made Humans the proletariat. He convinced the majority to follow his orders and took them to colonise in Laketown. One woman remained, who had birthed a child the day following the leave of the others. She died in childbirth and Legolas wished to house the newborn. His mother knew she was ill, and would die in birth, resisting Elven healing. But she allowed us to tell her that she would produce a male, so she was able to name him. Weeks before the birth she proudly shared his name, and whispered it to him before he exited her womb.

 

“He emerged, and she whispered again his name.” Thranduil, ever the dramatic, forced his stare away from Bard’s attentive eyes, and leaned over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Her last word was “Bard”. He grew up loved by the Elves. He was beautiful, you were beautiful. They admired your thick, black hair, that you chose to grow your facial hair. I watched you walk happily with them, and take care of Legolas when you grew to exceed his maturity. You became family despite your tousled hair and strange build. You shone in comparison.”

 

Thranduil leaned back, yet stayed close enough to feel each other’s breath.

 

“Thank you,” Bard finally said. His voice followed after the Elf’s, a calm whisper. This felt very personal, and the distance between them seemed far out of standard for two kings. He felt safe, he wanted to know more, and he wanted to kiss this theatrical king. “Was my father -my **original father** \- Human?”

 

Thranduil appeared to also wish for the latter, as he glanced down to the other’s lips, quickly returning them to Bard’s eyes. “I believe you were fully Human, however I never knew your original mother closely, nor did the other Elves until she was the only Human in Mirkwood.”

 

“Did, um, did we grow close in my youth? Since Legolas was caring for me.”

 

At that the blonde king pulled further away, his head tilting further down. Bard saw that their cups had ended up on the wooden table behind the blonde. He was more focused on the other king’s sudden look of… disappointment. He hoped he hadn’t done something wrong, or that the Elf was blaming himself for something so trivial as not becoming close in his past life.

 

“I did not, I despised you in your youth because of what you were.” Bard’s expression turned to confusion.

 

“A- A Human or your soulmate?”

 

“My Human soulmate.”

 

“How did- do you know that I’m your soulmate?”

 

Thranduil hesitated, and Bard silently waited. That must be an intrusive question, and he was prepared to leave it be if the other wished it.

 

But he did answer, still in a small voice, but now solemn as well. “Some Elves are marked.” He raised his right forearm, turning his side to Bard as he pulled his sleeve back. “The day their soulmate is born, their name becomes a permanent mark. I’ve always thought it to resemble the permanent hold the soulmate now has on the other.”

 

Bard couldn’t reply, he couldn’t even instantly process his words because he was entirely focused on his name. Written in standard tongue, silver yet clear on the Elf’s pale wrist.

 

The contact, this time, didn’t hurt. It was protective and warm, shielding the right portion of the Elf’s face. He didn’t catch himself before leaning into the touch, and didn’t bother to stop when he did. The temptation to reveal the truth of his appearance rose further, but he decided to wait. There was no pressing reason to hide it, as this man is the same as his past self and would likely rant encouragements about his appearance, but he must be tired, and this conversation had become heavy and somber.

 

“If I am bringing too many stern topics to mind, I extend my apologies.”

 

Bard shook his head, still carefully holding the king’s unharmed side; He did not wish to aggravate the abused skin any further, even if that had been his intention during previous actions. “I am thankful to know so much already.”

 

Thranduil gave a short-lasting smile but stayed silent for a few minutes. Bard returned the gesture as he hesitantly moved his left thumb, caressing the skin over the other’s cheekbone. The blonde’s right hand had settled on the other’s waist. He didn’t dare attempt further contact until the Human initiated.

 

Meanwhile Bard lightly considered receiving a mark of his own, on the same wrist -unless it should be on the opposite side- and of his soulmate’s name. Immediately following the sweet thought he reminded himself that it was quite forward-thinking. He was still not sure if he can trust the Elven king, and of what he has seen, he is racist and stubborn. But perhaps that is what his past self -if that was truth as well- was intrigued by. Stubborn can also mean durable and protective. His quarrel with the Dwarves was considerably well founded, as well. The brunette could not find a valid reason reason for the king to be deceiving him. He might intend to eradicate the Human species, but he had seen their forces during the battle. He was in possession of dozens of more soldiers.

 

“Are you tired?” Bard was caught off guard by the question. Though sudden and irrelevant to their prior conversation, the king asked it in such a soothing tone that he would have become tired if he wasn’t already. His arrival had been fairly late, and he had remained awake far after dusk in the past month in order to settle things in Dale. The people were demanding, yet he hoped to lead a far better community than the Master.

 

“I… Yes, my apologies.” Yet he made no indication to move out of the embrace.

 

“Nonsense,” Thranduil assured. “A room is prepared for you.” He was reluctant to move, as well, but was also tired; Although the thought of falling asleep in his love’s arms was impossibly alluring, which is what he had struggled over once he had dressed that morning.

 

The man would be welcome in his bed, but offering this had drawn awkward conclusions from his past self. He had learned then that some made many assumptions concerning a bed, or closed doors, or certain expressions or phrases. Offering that had also resulted in the first night of cuddling, as well. He shivered when he remembered the sensation of his soulmate holding him through the night with safe arms and warm skin. He was so beautiful when he slept. His hair became tousled and he mumbled small words through parted lips.

 

This proved more of a challenge for the Elvenking, as he desired the other’s presence, warmth, embrace, sight, and scent in his bed, but worried that any proposition would either be interpreted incorrectly or seen as an imposition regardless. His resolution, though hard to make, was to set up a separate room, but chose the one beside his own.

 

“Thank you.” Bard seemed pleased, and in truth he was. That the king had designated a room to him and had it prepared was an enjoyable prospect, if possibly untrue.

 

Thranduil nodded, then turned to walk down a hallway on the opposite side of the room. Bard silenced a laugh when he repeated the “come hither” gesture. He was led up three walkways to one where he thought to be impossibly high. Thranduil stopped at the second door down that hall. The door was surprisingly normal compared to what he has seen of Elven products. A wooden form not unlike those in Laketown. The other king opened it for him and he walked in with a “Thank you” to which the other nodded.

 

“The drawer holds clothes for tonight and tomorrow, the bathroom is through that door. I believe all necessities are provided. If you require anything, you are welcome to visit my chambers in the door beside yours. Sleep well, Bard.”

 

“And you, Thranduil. Thank you.”

 

The door shut, taking the lightly smiling Elf from view. Bard felt his own smile stay in place as he turned from the door and prepared for bed.

 


End file.
